


TiMER

by pmastamonkmonk



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-21
Updated: 2013-04-21
Packaged: 2017-12-09 03:51:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,745
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/769651
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pmastamonkmonk/pseuds/pmastamonkmonk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Live in the moment or wait for love. The clock is ticking.</p>
            </blockquote>





	TiMER

When Vulcan scientists came forward with a technology designed with the sole intent of finding one’s soul mate, the scientific field had chuckled and sneered and jovially urged them to ‘pull the other one, it has bells’. What use would a species that focused their culture solely on logic and the subjugation of their ‘baser emotions’ have for a device specifically made to help them fall in love? The very idea was more than laughable.

However, to the Vulcans, it made perfect sense. Why wouldn’t it be logical to find your soul mate if you could? It was completely logical to be happy in a relationship; it created a healthier bond and made a more efficient home life for any prospective offspring.

The invention of the TiMER had been nothing _but_ logical.

Spock knew this the day his mother had held his hand and he had been ‘pierced’ – the process by which the device was installed. While the technology had spread throughout the Federation in the fifty years since its initial development, Vulcans still held to their traditions that a bond should be begun at the age of seven. On a child’s seventh birthday, a trained installer would come to their home and they would be ‘pierced’ with the slim metal bar right on the inside of their dominant wrist. The week beforehand was spent filling out surveys and taking tests to better aid the technology in its job of computing the best possible match.

The slim piece of metal would react to the bearer’s body heat and chemical levels in the brain, and once their intended ‘soul mate’ had their own TiMER installed, a countdown would begin. When the clock finally hit zero, the day that they would first meet would occur, an alert would chime and the display would flash zeroes. As eye contact was made, both TiMERs would react with a chirping alarm, alerting the wearers that they had met their perfect match before going completely blank. From then on, courtship in many species began; for Vulcans, a bond was formed.

However, Spock’s countdown had never begun. Blinking with no data, his TiMER had sat on his wrist for years now as he watched his peers pair up and bond, relationships flourishing around him as he continued through his life alone.

While Spock had been teased for his mixed heritage as a youth, his failing TiMER had only added more bite to their barbs, more cruelty to their taunts. Obviously it was his mixed heritage preventing a match from occurring. Obviously he was destined to be alone. Obviously, he was a freak.

“Don’t listen to them,” his mother murmured, one hand fussing slightly with his sweater. Hugs had gone to the wayside years before and Spock still found himself missing the comforting contact. His human mother, beautiful in her own right, ostracized as he was by the people of this planet, yet she overcame. She had his father by her side, her perfect match.

The first human-Vulcan pair the TiMER had arranged. There had been a few interspecies pairs as the technology spread across the Cosmos, but the bonding of Sarek of Vulcan and Amanda Grayson of Earth had made headlines, and even more so when Spock had been brought to the Universe.

Destined to traverse it alone, it seemed.

“Maybe you’re like your father,” his mother commented, fingers touching thoughtlessly at her own TiMER, the display blank, signifying her status as ‘found’. She was smiling brightly, comfortingly, though her eyes were sad. “Maybe you’re going to find someone off world, make them as happy as your father has made me.”

Spock resisted the urge to comment that making someone happy was not the sole desired outcome of the device, merely nodding. It was this argument only that eventually swayed his father into granting him permission to attend Starfleet Academy as opposed to joining the VSA.

Every night, he would glance at his wrist, and wonder if a child of two worlds was truly destined to be alone, and, illogically, wishing for the device to light up with a countdown of his own.

“Spock, I think you’re lucky,” Nyota said, making a wide motion with her fork, a smile on her face. She was a pleasant young lady, two years his junior, and her countdown was nearing its end, ticking away the seconds until she met her ONE. “I mean, think about it. It could be _anyone_.”

“Yeah,” Gaila agreed, her green skin offset by a mane of untamable red curls. “Remember those old commercials a few years back? About how it could be someone you already know, someone you hated? What was that terms and conditions? They tell you who your soul mate is, but you have to let it evolve naturally?” She gave a laugh. “They took them down so fast, nothing like giving people choices to make them afraid to use something. Take the guesswork out of love, my ass!”

Nyota shot her a dirty look. “Like I was saying… it could happen at any time! I mean, honestly, I’d almost rather not know how long it’s going to take to meet my ONE. Look at poor Gaila.”

“Poor me, what?” Gaila’s eyebrow quirked, her expression clouding dangerously. Talking about her TiMER was a sore spot.

Nyota made a face, gesturing to the countdown on her wrist as it slowly ticked away at the twenty-two years left on it. “Poor you, that. Twenty-two years until you meet your soul mate, and that’s after waiting for, what, another ten? You’re going to be forty-six when you meet them. I’d be going nuts! You’re going to be _old_. Hell, they’re gonna be old, too!”

Gaila rolled her eyes, “Just means I get to have more fun. In fact, it’s more incentive to do so! Poor me, anonymous, thrilling sex is so utterly _dull_!” Her gaze moved back to Spock. “Don’t listen to her, she’s just panicking because she’s about to be tied down. You! You have so many options open, Spock. Your soul mate could be literally anywhere at any time. They haven’t gotten their TiMER yet. You could have passed them on the sidewalk today or you might bump into them at a bar next week! You should go out and have some fun!”

Spock blinked slowly. He had an idea of her version of fun, it was vastly different from his own definition and usually resulted in trips to the medical offices for tests and shots and penicillin. “Fun, Gaila?” 

“Go out and meet someone, knowing that you don’t have to expect anything! If you like each other, keep it going as long as you want, maybe even until _their_ TiMER goes off, no strings!” she took a decisive bite of her hamburger, chewing quickly. “I try to stick to guys who have TiMERs, they tend to be the ones most willing to experiment. Guys without take one look at mine and make that weird face,” her expression wrinkled into an attempt at disapproving. “Like I’m cheating on the guy I’ll meet decades from now, it’s ridiculous.” 

“Gaila, I do not-“ Spock began, quickly finding himself interrupted.

“You’re a good looking guy and you could have your pick of anyone. Guys with TiMERs will take you as a last ditch for freedom, and guys without could be your match without either of you knowing! It’s harmless!”

“That seems…” Spock tried to find a word that would not offend Gaila’s lifestyle choices.

“Skanky?” Nyota offered. “I’m all for the occasional one-nighter, but you’ve turned it into an art form. I mean, honestly, all those boys with TiMERs counting down are just using you for one last roll in the hay!”

“Well, I’m using them, too, so it’s a win-win,” Gaila shot back.

Spock allowed them to bicker. Many days it was his best form of entertainment, but this argument had happened numerous times before and was growing predictable. 

“You have scientific proof,” Nyota thrust her wrist in Gaila’s face, the countdown rolling over to ten days, twelve hours, and twenty-three minutes, “that all of those boys are a waste of your time, but you chase after them anyway. Isn’t that just… tedious to you?”

“Nope, because I’m having _fun_. And instead of spending the next twenty-two years of my life waiting and moping, I’m enjoying myself!” she turned her attention back to Spock, gaze fierce. “It might just get your dad off your ass about settling down.”

Nyota scowled at that, and soon the two devolved into another bout of mindless bickering and insults at each other’s hobbies. Spock allowed the chattering to fade into the background, observing the passing crowd around them. He picked out each of the couples as they walked by, caught up in their own happiness, knowing they had found the one for them. Forcing his gaze away his eyes raked over the display on his wrist, blinking empty as always.

Spock was unsure what had inspired him to listen to Gaila’s advice a week later, but he found himself in a bar he’d never been in, nursing a drink that would have no effect on his faculties, and contemplating if it would be unseemly to simply get up and leave.

He suspected it had been the unsuccessful discussion with his father that afternoon.

Sarek was of a mind that Spock should be introducing himself to persons lacking TiMERs and escorting them to the nearest implant terminal to have one installed. He could not conceivably wait forever for his ONE to get a TiMER and instead should be making an attempt to find them himself. Sarek had not permitted him leave to Earth to waste his life away waiting; he could have done that on Vulcan at the VSA.

Spock could not decide if coming to this bar was an act of rebellion or an act of submission. Instead he took another sip of his vodka tonic.

The establishment wasn’t crowded, but it wasn’t quiet either. A buzz of conversation filtered over the room, the clack of billiard balls rising over the few silences, laughter and the clinking of glasses, low music. A cloud of smoke seemed to permeate the air, the smell not as unpleasant as Spock had expected upon his entry. His position at the bar left his back to the room, the bartender paying him no mind as he carried on his business, the other stools at the bar were vacant save for the occasional moment when a patron would lean against them as they awaited their drink orders.

Glancing about the room, Spock wondered if she should attempt to enter conversation with one of the other patrons or simply wait to be approached. He felt there were other, more lucrative ventures he could be undertaking on a Tuesday evening than wasting credits on drinks he found unpalatable in a place he’d rather not be. Perhaps Gaila had been wrong to suggest this, and he wrong to accept the proposal. She had always made it sound so effortless in her tales of previous exploits, but he just felt uncomfortable. He shifted to rise from his stool.

“Haven’t seen you around here before,”

Spock looked to his left as a blonde man slid into the vacant seat, effectively halting his retreat. Eyes bluer than any Spock had ever seen before met his above a flash of white teeth. 

“I have never patronized this particular venue before,” Spock replied.

“But you’re Starfleet, yeah? Big city, though. Guess we’d never run into each other.” A hand was extended and Spock caught the flash of a timer on his wrist, numbers steadily rolling down. Illogically, he felt his heart sink. “Jim Kirk.”

“I am Spock.” After a moment’s hesitation, he shook the other man’s hand. 

Gaila’s words rang in his head for what felt like the thousandth time that evening. Would it hurt to make an attempt to instigate a casual relationship with someone? Truly? Even one night of company would be better than returning to his apartment alone, sitting in the silence with only his own thoughts as a companion.

“Oh, blank timer,” Jim gave a low whistle. “That’s rough. Been that way long or is this a new installation?”

“Twenty years, six months, twenty-three days.” Spock replied. 

“Looking to the future,” his tone was thoughtful, his grin wry. “Shame, you’d have much more exciting present if you really wanted.”

Spock bristled slightly. “And your own countdown, if you do not mind me asking?”

Jim pulled his sleeve back, revealing the countdown to be nearing the six month mark. “Soon enough. I’m hoping that they’re nice, I’m not sure how much of this stuff I believe.”

Spock felt the urge to frown. “If you do not believe in it, why get one?”

Jim motioned to the bartender and a drink was deposited before him, their eye contact. “Seemed like the thing to do.”

The conversation they fell into was easier than Spock expected, easier than most conversations came to him. Jim was both intelligent and amusing. He joked with Spock and understood the dry wit he got in return, but he did not say much about himself even when Spock asked directly. When a finger grazed his cheek almost an hour later, brushing away an eyelash Jim had explained, Spock could feel the thrum of desire under the other man’s skin and contemplated his next move carefully.

He hesitated, thinking of how Gaila spoke to men just before leaving with them. Should he bat his eyelashes? Lean forward into Jim’s personal space? How did she get her voice so breathy without sounding forced? He swallowed thickly. “If you-“

He paused, but thankfully Jim continued in the silence, “This might be a little forward… but my place is nearby… if you’re interested?”

Jim’s hand had fallen to Spock’s knee, fingers brushing against the ones resting there. The thrum of craving pulsed, the other man’s voice going low and rough. Spock resisted a shiver. 

“I am… amenable to that,”

The wide, toothy smile returned and Jim tossed a few bills to the bar before rising. Spock felt remiss as the hand – warm even through the material of his trousers – left, and rose to follow it. It settled on the small of Spock’s back, ushering him forward and towards the exit. “Well, then, let’s get out of here.”

The walk from the bar to Jim’s apartment was not long, the building was well tended, and the elevator ride tense. Spock was unsure if he should move closer, instigate something. Human courtship was confusing to him, and though Jim had taken his hand to lead him down the hall once the doors opened, he was unable to think of what to do next. He almost wished Gaila was there, she always knew what to do in situations like this, made it look so simple, so effortless.

“Stop thinking so much,” Jim was grinning widely as the door to the apartment opened, Spock barely had a second to look around before he found his back pressed against the wood of the now closed door. “I can hear you all the way over here.”

Jim’s body was close to his, so very close, closer than any other person’s had ever been. His emotions buzzed under his heated skin, desire and arousal prominent amongst them. Spock inhaled sharply. “I am…” he paused, chewing on the inside of his lip. Think like Gaila, he instructed himself, act like Gaila.

He leaned forward and caught Jim’s mouth in a chaste kiss. After a moment, Spock could feel the other man’s lips curve into a smile before the hand pressed to the door near his head curled around his neck, changing the angle, the mouth against his pressing more firmly. His body melted against the door, hands clutching at Jim’s biceps to pull him closer, mouth opening of its own accord to allow him entrance.

Human kissing had never held an appeal to him from a third party view. The trading of saliva seemed to be unsanitary at best and the idea of another’s tongue in his mouth was incomprehensible. Now, however, as he felt Jim’s fingers slip under the hem of his jacket and stroke his stomach, tongue twining with his own and saliva mingling, he found the experience almost overwhelming.

Jim pulled back to breath, letting out a raspy laugh. “You can touch me if you want, I don’t bite,” contradicting his words, he nipped at Spock’s neck eliciting a gasp. “Much.”

The hand curled around the back of Spock’s neck moved to the front, unzipping his jack and pushing it aside, palming his chest through the thin cotton of his undershirt. 

“I am,” Spock inhaled sharply as a fingertip grazed his nipple, Jim noticed and repeated the action, “unsure… how to move forward.” His hips gave a small thrust of their own volition and Jim pressed more firmly against him, the hot length of his own arousal branding against Spock’s thigh. 

“Do whatever you like, we’ll figure it out.” Teeth trailed up his neck to his ear lobe, biting down gently before a tongue stroked up the shell, lingering on the pointed tip. Spock’s fingers clenched in response and he arched into the strange feeling.

“I am… unsure of what I like,” Spock replied breathlessly. This loss of control was unprecedented. Is this what Gaila spoke of when she mentioned her exploits? Was it always like this? So overwhelming yet he desired more. More of what, he was unsure, simply that he _wanted_.

Jim paused at his words, pulling back. “You…” Blue eyes, dilated with arousal, searched his face. “You’ve… done this before, right?”

“Picked someone up at a bar or engaged in intercourse?” Spock asked, wondering if his lips were as flushed and swollen as Jim’s were. On the other man, spit slicked and reddened, it was quite the attractive sight. “In either case the answer is no.”

Jim pulled away further and Spock found himself fighting the urge to pull him back. “You’ve never had sex before?”

Deciding that humor would alleviate the sudden tension, Spock curled his fingers into Jim’s shoulders, trying to pull him close again. “I believe the phrase is that there is a first time for everything.”

There was still some resistance, even as Jim caught his mouth once more, but with a few flicks of his tongue, Spock had returned them to their previous torrid state. It seemed the words had not strayed too far as there were no more requests for what he liked or did not like, though as he looked up at the ceiling from his place on the bed minutes later, he found he could not complain.

Jim was hesitant with his touches, but still managed a level of confidence, eliciting responses from Spock with ease, arches of his back and touches of his own, gasps and moans. He wasn’t given the time to be self-conscious about his looks or his actions, spurred on by instinct and the need to _touch_ , to _feel_.

Minutes bled together, touches and caresses melting into one another and before Spock could fathom it, he was speared open by Jim’s cock. His back arched of its own accord, a gasp wrenching its way from his throat as his head tossed back. The preparation had not been brief, but he still felt unprepared for it. Jim’s gasping, shuddering breaths above him, the vibrations of muscles being fiercely held under control, awaiting permission.

Spock gave it. Without a thought.

They rocked together seamlessly, an easy rhythm falling between them. Jim’s hands never stayed in one place, stroking through Spock’s chest hair, sliding down his arms, clutching his thighs, almost as if he were unsure what to grasp onto. Spock was no better, one hand could not decide if it would rather grip Jim’s shoulder or clutch his hair, the other moving up and down any piece of sweat slick skin he could find, the novelty of human perspiration not lost on him even in such a moment.

Time, for once in his life, fell from his thoughts. Minutes, eons, it was inconsequential, all Spock knew what one instant he was struggling to maintain control and the next he was falling. Jim followed him a few thrusts later, shuddering against him, his breath hot and wet against Spock’s neck before he pulled back. He felt bereft as Jim pulled out, disposing of his condom before falling to the sheets, his arm thrown carelessly over Spock’s bare torso.

There were no words, and despite knowing it was not the best idea, Spock let himself drift off, his first assisted orgasm leaving him listless and drained.

Spock was woken the next morning by shouting. His eyes snapped open and his internal clock set him at just past eight am. It was later than he’d usually wake, but he had plenty of time to make it to his first lecture that morning.

The events of the night before flashed through his head as he sat up and took note of the vacant room around him. Blanket pooled around his hips, his clothes neatly folded on the chair near the bed, door slightly ajar. A thick Southern accent flowed from one of the voices, the other belonging to Jim. Spock took the opportunity for solitude and quickly began to dress himself.

“What have I told you about random hook ups! Damnit, Jim, you never learn!”

“Hey! I’m safe about it, and in case you haven’t noticed, _your highness_ , I haven’t picked someone up in a long time!”

“Yeah, well, she better be ready to do the walk of fucking shame, because I’ve got class in an hour and I’m not leaving her here alone while you dick off to work!”

The door opened and Spock, perched on the bed and pulling on one of his boots, stared up at Jim blankly. Jim stared right back at him, his scowl falling as his face flushed. “Uh… my roommate…” he shut the door quickly, muffling the voice from the other room, still muttering and swearing about Jim’s behavior. “He, uh… late night… he’s grouchy when… stuff…” Jim shifted awkwardly. “I’m not making the best first impression right now, am I?”

Spock tilted his head in acquiescence. “I do not believe I am making one on your roommate.”

“He’s not a bad guy, I swear… just… old fashioned,” Jim licked his lips, managing a weak smile. “Didn’t want to wake you up… but I do have to head to work soon…” 

Spock figured this is what Gaila was always complaining about when it came to spending the night at another student’s dorm. The term “walk of shame” had been bandied about in plenty of her conversations with Nyota. He had expected as much, but he found it did make him a bit uncomfortable. He felt very much in need of a shower, reminded of that by the dampness of Jim’s own freshly washed hair. He also had the odd feeling that anyone who saw him would know exactly what he had been doing the night before, as unlikely as that was. It was disconcerting, but he also felt… hurt? Like he would very much prefer it if Jim asked him to stay.

“It is fine. I will finish getting dressed and leave.”

Jim frowned, brow knitting, “Don’t sound like that. I’m not trying to kick you out.”

“Kick me out?”

The silence was awkward, Spock confused and Jim shifting and scratching his neck, looking anywhere but at him. “Look… I… I had a good time last night, like… better than other times. And I really liked talking to you and… y’know, I really like _you_ , and… I’m sounding like a god damn moron, aren’t I?” he sighed, closing his eyes for a moment. “What I’m trying to say is… would you… like to see me again? ‘Cause I’d like to see you. Again.”

Spock did not expect _that_. From all of Gaila’s stories, one night stands ended with stilted conversation and the unspoken agreement to never speak to one another again, if she stayed that long at all – she often spoke of sneaking out while her partner slept on. He had expected a similar situation, perhaps an awkward excuse to get him out of the apartment and no further contact. 

He felt he should apologize and politely refuse the offer, write this experiment off as a failure and continue on as he had been, waiting for his TiMER to start. Or take his father’s advice and begin herding prospective candidates to the nearest terminal and forcing installations, hoping illogically that one of them would be his match.

“I would like that very much,” is what he said instead.

Jim’s eyes lit up, a smile crossing his face. In an instant he was kneeling on the bed, one knee between Spock’s spread legs, lips pressed to Spock’s and a hand curled around his jaw. Spock could smell a fresh application of cologne, clean skin from the shower, the leather from his jacket, the mint from his toothpaste. He found he did not want to pull back, found himself considering, for the first time in his life, calling in sick simply so he wouldn’t have to leave.

“And another thing-“ 

The door slammed open, shouted words stuttering into silence as Jim’s roommate observed them, face flushing scarlet, mouth working uselessly. Jim sighed, his forehead pressing to Spock’s for a moment before pulling back. Spock caught a flurry of amusement, annoyance, desire.

“Bones, come on! I told you, he’s leaving, so just stop. Go to class, I’ll lock up behind him,”

_Bones_ spluttered out a response, staring at Spock wide-eyed, his cadet reds a blaring opposite of Spock’s own charcoal instructor uniform. “He’s… Professor-“

“Yeah, and since I’m not a cadet it’s not an issue,” Jim snarled. “Now, go to class!”

With a final shove, the other man was out of the room, door shut behind him. After a few moments, Spock could hear the front door open and shut as well. Jim turned back to him, trying to bring up a smile and managing a slightly awkward one. It was just as charming as the rest had been.

“So, can I get your comm info?”

Spock managed to avoid bringing up his… _affair_ with Gaila and Nyota for almost a full month. He was lucky that Nyota’s countdown had finished a few days after his encounter with Jim and the happy news had distracted the two girls from focusing on him and his own TiMER. However, he had always been a terrible liar and as soon as the conversation came up, he found all the details escaping.

“You… you actually went to a bar and picked a guy up?” Nyota seemed shocked, if not appalled by the news. Spock almost frowned.

“I believe that since I accompanied him to his domicile, he effectively picked me up,” he corrected, his voice prim.

Nyota continued to stare as Gaila fidgeted with glee. “How was he? Was he cute? Did you enjoy it? Tell me you enjoyed it! Did you pick up another guy after? How many guys have you picked up? Did they have TiMERs?”

“I have not made an attempt to ‘pick up another guy’,” he replied, casually spearing a bit of broccoli from his salad and bringing it to his mouth. “I have still been entertaining the first one.”

Silence fell over the table, Nyota’s look twisting into confusion, Gaila’s furrowing into a pout.

“Entertaining… like… hooking up?” Nyota asked, brow furrowing.

Spock kept his gaze straight and expression blank. “That is part of it. We have also gone on what I believe you refer to as ‘dates’,”

“Wait, you’ve been on _how many_ dates with this guy? Cause that number better be one or less.”

Spock brought a forkful of salad greens to his mouth, ignoring Gaila’s question. Nyota huffed, letting her gaze cross onto the nearly empty lawn, watching as her new ONE played rugby with a few cadets from engineering. He was a nice man, a bit loud for Spock’s taste, but clever. His accent, thick as it was, had brought endless amusement to Gaila. However now her attention was fully focused on him. 

He found he did not revel in that fact.

“I told you to get some, not start a relationship!” She huffed, irritation screwing her features into a scowl. Spock wanted to correct her; he definitely recalled her mentioning an option of ‘keep it going until _their_ TiMER goes off’. He chose to remain silent.

“Oh, lay off him,” Nyota chided, turning her gaze to Spock, a soft smile on her lips. “ _I’m_ happy for you. You need someone in your life.”

Spock tilted his head, swallowing. “Thank you, Nyota,”

“Now, tell us about him!” her eyes sparkled mischievously. For such a smart girl, she could be a terrible gossip. “I bet he’s cute. Tall, dark, and handsome like you, and smart! Does he go here?”

“He is very intelligent, yes, but not dark,” Spock felt a little giddy as he began to explain Jim to his two friends. He’d never had the chance to talk about a paramour before; it was novel and exciting to him. He managed to keep his face straight and the buoyancy from his voice. “Aesthetically pleasing, yes, but not a student here.”

“Not a cadet?” Nyota tilted her head. “What does he do, then?”

“He works for a local bookstore and a mechanic. He is very adept with computers and engineering.” he paused for a moment, before looking to Gaila pointedly. “Very good with his hands.”

Gaila huffed, arms crossing over her chest, TiMER gleaming in the sunlight as the countdown continued to click away. “How long?”

“Excuse me?”

“How long since your first date?”

“Three weeks, four days,” Spock replied, tone clipped. Five days if one included their first night together as a ‘date’. Spock wasn’t sure if he did yet.

“And does he have a TiMER?”

Spock took another bite of his salad, choosing not to answer. Gaila looked to Nyota for help, and the other girl bit her lip. “How much… longer does he have?”

He chose to remain silent. “That soon, huh?” Gaila huffed out a puff of air through her nose, gaze softening. “Spock… when I suggested getting someone casual, I didn’t…” She bit her lip, trailing off. “How often do you see each other?”

“As often as our schedules permit.” Almost every day. Spock would often spend the night now that Jim’s roommate, McCoy, had accepted his presence as reoccurring. 

“So what’s his name?” Nyota changed the topic, casting a glance in Gaila’s direction. “We might know him. I know you said he’s not a cadet…”

“He does not attend the Academy, no. His name is Jim Kirk.”

They both froze, expressions disbelieving. “No way, you’re dating _Jim Kirk_?” Gaila’s brow knitted. “I didn’t think he had a-“

“Well, he’s not my type, but I’m happy for you, Spock,” Nyota cut in, glaring at Gaila. “I’m sure the rumors of his promiscuity have been greatly exaggerated.”

Spock nodded, casting a curious glance in Gaila’s direction. “I was unaware he was well known.”

“He’s smart,” Nyota replied. “And his dad was on the Kelvin… a lot of people expected him to enlist but he never did. I hear he’s living with an older guy on the medical track.”

“Leonard McCoy,” Spock acknowledged. “He had simply informed me his father had passed, I never suspected it would be George Kirk.” He set his fork down, turning his attention to them more fully. Jim did not often speak of himself, having a chance to learn more was intriguing. “Have you known him long?”

“I’ve met him once or twice,” Nyota shrugged, but her tone spoke of a longer story. “Ran into him with Gaila most recently. She’s the one who knows him well enough to be considered more than an acquaintance.”

Gaila gnawed on the inside of her lip. “Met a year back, shacked up. He’s sweet, one of the only guys to stay friends. He’s…” She glanced at Spock’s TiMER before smiling, though it did not reach her eyes. “He’s great, really great. I’m happy that he’s the guy you picked that night.”

Curious at her sudden change of heart, Spock wanted to inquire more, but his comm going off interrupted them. A message from Jim, asking to stop by on his lunch break in half an hour. If he left at that moment, Spock could just make it in time. “Excuse me, but something has come up,”

“Oh, I’ll just bet it has,” Gaila purred, a lascivious grin crossing her features. “Go get him, Tiger.”

When Jim was not tinkering with engines at the local mechanic, he worked in a book store part time. It was out of the way but had a healthy supply of business despite the antiquity. He’d often gushed to Spock about books he’d picked up during slow shifts, trying to convince the other man to pick them up as well. The blonde rarely succeeded, though the crowning achievement was the copy of Harry Potter Jim had slipped into his bag one night, read cover to cover.

Spock enjoyed the book store. It was quiet, dim but not dark, comfortable. Sometimes when Jim was working late, he’d bring a PADD, take a vacant seat, and work there as opposed to home. It didn’t hurt that Jim would often float past and drop a cup of tea on the table next to him as he did so.

Entering the establishment, Spock scanned the area for a shock of blonde hair, catching sight of him at the counter helping a customer. Blue eyes rose to him, crinkling at the corners endearingly before turning their attention back to the young lady before him. She was obviously flirting, but Spock could see that her TiMER was still counting down, breathing a sigh of relief. He chastised himself for the though, Jim’s counter would not go off for another several months, after all.

“Spock, you made it,” Jim made a show of leaning over the counter to give him a kiss. The girl floundered at the new information, eyes darting at their wrists, Spock’s covered by his uniform. “I’ll be done in a few minutes, wanna browse for a bit?”

“I’ll be taking a look at the fiction books.”

Jim’s eyes lit up at that and Spock bit back a smile. Pleasing the other man was so easy, but it never failed to make a flood of warmth rush through him. Allowing Jim to press one more kiss to his lips, he turned, making his way through the shelves.

Jim often took his lunch at this time of day as few people were in the store, and those few were browsing mindlessly with no real reason to bother him for help. It was a few short uninterrupted moments in his busy day, and Spock was glad that he could share it with him.

Eyes trailing over the spines on the shelves, Spock looked attentively for one in particular. He found it and drew it from its home with ease, opening it about halfway through and paging to where he had left off on his last visit. 

“Yer a wizard, Harry.” 

Spock allowed the corners of his lips to curl up slightly as Jim’s arms wrapped around him from behind, chin resting on his shoulder. He turned the page.

“Told you you’d like it,” Jim murmured, nuzzling into Spock’s neck with a grin. “Already on the third? Didn’t even tell me you’d read the second.”

Spock felt the TiMER on Jim’s wrist brush against the skin of his waist as deft hands slid under his jacket. He clenched down on the irrational stab of sadness he felt. 

“You did not ask me if I had read it,” he countered, turning a page pointedly. 

“Hmm,” Jim hummed against the nape of Spock’s neck. “Well, looks like I’ll have to take a bigger interest in your reading, make you a book list. Maybe we can watch the movies when you’ve read all seven.”

Spock murmured his assent, leaning further back into the warmth of Jim’s hold, pointedly sliding his own TiMER’d wrist under the spine of the book and out of sight.

They spent most of their time together at Jim’s apartment or taking walks through the city when Jim wasn’t working. Jim seemed more comfortable while in motion or when somewhere familiar, such as his home. They kept a wide berth of the campus, though whenever Spock inquired about it, Jim would change the subject or make up some illogical excuse. Spock left the topic alone.

They spoke of many subjects, and while Jim was open with a lot, there were certain things Spock had learned not to discuss. His family life earned stilted, vague responses, discussing his aptitude for engineering or science resulted in quickly changed subjects and mastered avoidance.

Inquiring about Jim’s roommate, however, was a good way to segue into such touchy topics.

“Bones is on the medical track,” Jim explained as he dropped onto the couch, Spock already in the seat beside him. He kicked one of McCoy’s text books off the coffee table to rest a sock clad foot against the edge. “Smart guy, but a bit paranoid. Moved here from Georgia ‘round the same time I moved here.”

“You share quarters with a student from Starfleet yet do not attend yourself?”

Jim dodged the unspoken question, shrugging, “He feels old going so late. He’s in his thirties, doesn’t wanna room with another cadet.” He picked up a controller and handed it to Spock, quickly flipping the game on and navigating the menu to start the first round. “He’s nice, though, I think he’s just looking for someone to take care of, y’know? So I let him coddle me when it’s not too much trouble.”

Spock, in their time together, had learned a great deal about Jim, though often through other sources or vague statements from the other man. He was originally from Iowa, his father was deceased yet his mother was still alive. He had an elder brother who was married with two young children stationed on a space colony, a scientist. He had been named for his two grandfathers, was allergic to strawberries and penicillin, had a knack for engineering, and had worked numerous odd jobs giving him a wide array of skills.

However, he did not know how or why Jim had come to be in San Francisco, what he’d enjoyed doing as a child, or, most importantly, why on their walks he’d gaze at the sky with such _longing_.

Spock let the questions he wished to ask go, and allowed himself to continue playing the illogical game laid before him, despite how often he lost and how frustrating it became. The fifth time a ‘zombie’ pinned him to the wall until he ‘died’, he resisted the urge to scowl in Jim’s direction, the other man having not fallen once.

After two more rounds, he gave up, allowing his controller to drop to the floor so he could pin Jim to the couch. In the background, over Jim’s gasping giggles and moans, he could hear the game over music playing, but could not be bothered to care.

Spock had found that some of the most illogical things would come from Jim’s mouth after sex. It was as if a switch between his brain and his mouth had been flipped and he simply let his thoughts run free.

With any other person, such illogical statements would have earned a sharp barb or at least a look of derision, but Spock reasoned that the lassitude brought on by a good orgasm offered some leniency. However, allowing the other man to pillow his head on his shoulder, sharing his body heat did not make the statements any less ridiculous. 

Luckily, over the course of their liaison, he’d learned the proper way to respond in such moments.

“Idiot.”

Jim grinned, snuggling closer, one arm thrown over Spock’s chest lazily. “You’re the idiot.”

“No, you are the idiot,” Spock hid his own smile in Jim’s hair, looping his grip around the other man’s torso to pull him even closer.

“You’re the idiot.”

“I believe you are the idiot.”

“Shut up,” Jim chuckled, nose wrinkling against Spock’s neck.

“You are the shut up.”

Jim dissolved into giggles, rolling Spock underneath him to kiss him soundly.

Around the third month of their liaison, the duo ran into Nyota and Gaila, with two men in tow. One Spock recognized as Nyota’s ONE, though he looked much less enthused than the two women were at the bags in his hands. The other was a student he believed was on the command track, if he recalled correctly, a Mister Hikaru Sulu.

“Jim! Hey, good to see you!” Gaila gave the man in question a brief hug, letting her hand trail down Spock’s arm and pulling away before she touched his hand, fingers coming dangerously close to his TiMER. She smiled brightly, “Heard you were seeing Spock.”

Jim’s fist tightened a little before he shoved both hands in his pockets, deep enough that the TiMER was obscured by the denim of his jeans. “Yeah, well, he’s great. I’m real lucky.”

Spock let his eyebrow rise before turning to the others. “Nyota, Mister Scott, pleasure to see you, again.” He looked to Sulu, “And I believe you are Mister Sulu?”

The other man gave a small grin, but did not extend his hand. Paid attention in his xenobiology courses then. “That’s right, Professor Spock.”

“How many times have I told you to call me Scotty!” Nyota’s ONE huffed, though the grin on his face went against the gruffness of his tone. “Good to see you, too, laddie. This the beau I’ve been hearing so much about from Nyota? Hear you’ve got a knack for engineering!”

Jim coughed a little, shrugging his shoulders noncommittally. “I dabble.”

“Jim, you rebuilt a hoverbike singlehandedly in only two days. You are quite good with engineering,” Spock reprimanded. Scotty’s eyes lit up. Sulu’s did as well, though Spock suspected it was more for the bike itself and less for the fact that Jim had put it together.

“That so? I’d like to take a look at that sometime, if you don’t mind, of course.” Scotty was beaming.

“I’d like to take it for a spin,” Sulu chimed and suddenly the three were dissolved in a conversation about specs and engine parts. Spock quickly tuned them out, turning his attention to the two girls.

“Shopping?”

Nyota shrugged, “He offered to come along, Gaila flashed her cleavage and got Hikaru to agree.”

Grinning impishly, Gaila took a sip of her smoothie. “Where are you two off to?”

“Jim and I are going to the aquarium. There is a new addition to the cephalopod tank and it should prove to be quite interesting.”

Jim glanced over at the mention of his name, giving a smile before being pulled back into his conversation. Spock felt the corners of his mouth twitch upwards briefly in return. Looking back, he noticed Nyota and Gaila looking between them, but their expressions were difficult to place.

They almost looked… sad.

“Spock, I-“ Jim paused, staring at the other person in Spock’s office with a startled expression on his face. “I’ll… wait outside.”

“No, it’s fine. I was just leaving.”

Spock looked between the two for a moment. “Captain Pike and I were just discussing the progress of the Enterprise’s developments. It is being built in the shipyard of your hometown, is it not?”

Jim nodded absently, looking anywhere but at Pike. “It’s sure to be a gorgeous ship,” Pike agreed, giving Jim a considering look. “Gonna introduce me to your friend here, Spock? Doesn’t look like a student.”

“He is not,” Spock agreed. “Captain Pike, this is Jim-“

“We’ve met,” Jim cut him off, shooting Pike a dirty look. “It was pleasant.”

The tone of his voice showed that it had been anything but and Spock looked to Pike for clarification. The other man simply looked amused.

“Surprised to see you out here, Mister Kirk,” Jim winced at the use of his last name, barely, but it was there. “Spock has told me a lot about you, but never mentioned your name. Your engineering skills are extensive, is how he put it.”

Jim gave him a challenging look. “Nothing to boast about. _Sir_.”

Spock recognized that tone. Time to intervene. “Jim and I have plans for this evening, Captain. I will speak with you further at a later time?”

“Of course,” Pike grinned, tilting his head in acknowledgement. He turned back to Jim and held his hand out. “Good to see you again, Kirk.”

Jim saw the extended hand for the challenge that it was, shaking it firmly. “Pike.”

Pike’s grin transformed into a smirk and he made his way out of Spock’s office, gently closing the door behind him with a soft click. Jim scowled at the wood as if it had done him a personal grievance.

Spock had learned quite fast that the best way to handle these moods and get some sort of explanation out of Jim was to appeal to his guilty nature when it came to Spock and his feelings. He rose, placing a gentle hand on Jim’s hip from behind, lowering his voice just enough to make it rough around the edges.

“I apologize, I did not realize Christopher’s presence would offend you or I would have concluded our meeting sooner.”

Jim’s shoulders slumped. “I was being a jerk… wasn’t I?”

“You obviously have a pre-existing relationship that creates hostility between the two of you. I have seen how you handle hostility, and thank you for reigning yourself back while in my office.”

Right in the guilt. Spock wondered if he should feel bad for how easy it was to manipulate Jim at some points, then remembered how the other man took advantage of his sensitive ears while they were in public.

“He just… he knew my dad. Uhura ever tell you how we met?”

Spock frowned, “She mentioned you were a mutual acquaintance with Gaila.”

“We met in Riverside. That trip the advanced students took to the shipyard, ran into her at a bar and there was a fight, Pike intervened.”

“As I would expect him to do as a member of Starfleet command,” Spock murmured, making a note to interrogate Nyota further if Jim failed to continue.

“He got the charges dropped, I mean I did bust up his Cadets even if they got me better. Started talking about enlisting and, I dunno… at first I got really pissed, then I thought it over and almost agreed… took the shuttle with the new recruits here.”

Spock was surprised. “You had planned to enlist? What changed your mind?”

Jim’s form was straining with reluctance and Spock could feel how his emotions roiled darkly under the surface of his skin. “I dunno… got to the campus here and just… I bailed on my orientation and stopped answering my comms. Avoided the campus like the plague. I met Bones on the shuttle over and he didn’t ask any questions… when he offered the spare room at his place, I took it.”

“And you have never considered another attempt?”

Jim shrugged awkwardly, and though he had never before, Spock pressed.

“You would do well. Your aptitude is, as Pike would say, off the charts, I am sure you could finish at least a semester ahead, perhaps two. Test out of certain courses… Engineering would suit you, or perhaps computer… sciences…” 

Jim had pulled away, shrugging Spock’s arms from his body. Catching a flash of anger, Spock stopped, unsure how to continue.

“Can’t I just do what I’ve been doing, huh? What’s so wrong about not wanting to join up? Can’t I live my own fucking life instead of having to live in his shadow? Maybe I don’t _want_ to enlist, Spock!”

Spock almost took a step back. Jim had never shouted at him before, he was quite sure he did not like it. “Jim, I only suggest it because I believe it would suit you. I would never force you to do something you do not wish to.”

Jim laughed, but it was a bitter sound. “Yeah, you just want what’s best for me, huh? You and everybody else. I don’t feel like dinner anymore, I’ll call you later,” he pushed past Spock and into the hallway, storming away. 

Spock was unsure whether or not he should follow after. He did not know what he should say to soothe this conversation, make Jim not be angry anymore. He’d never fought with Gaila or Nyota, and whenever the two of them had an argument, it seemed to vanish the next time they saw each other. Still, he couldn’t shake the feeling that he should be doing something to fix this.

“Not gonna ask, here’s a beer.”

Jim looked up at McCoy in confusion, but accepted the beer anyway, slumping on the couch next to him. “Thought you had clinic duty tonight, what’re you doing here?”

“I can sense when you’re about to cry, it’s like a mother-daughter thing.” He shrugged, settling next to him on the couch. Jim stared in confusion. “Someone needed to switch shifts. You weren’t answering your comm so I shot a message to Spock asking for you guys to stay at his tonight. He let me know you’d stormed off like a bitch.”

Snorting, Jim looked away, sipping at his beer sourly.

McCoy eyed him, but let it sit for a few long minutes. Jim stared resolutely at the TV screen before him, though McCoy could tell he wasn’t really watching. Three beers later, McCoy sighed, running his tongue over his teeth as he debated his next move. “Trouble in paradise?”

Jim feigned nonchalance, shrugging noncommittally. “Same shit different day.”

“Ah, ran into Pike finally.”

Tensing, Jim glowered. “How’d you know?”

“Kid, you think I’m an idiot? Your last name’s Kirk. Doesn’t take a brain surgeon to make that leap to why you were on that shuttle in the first place. Now, it was your choice not to actually enlist and god knows I ain’t your daddy, so I didn’t ask questions, but when Pike heard through the grapevine that I knew you, he asked about you.”

Jim’s expression darkened, his jaw clenching. “You talk to Pike about me?”

“I mentioned you were still in town and let him know I wasn’t about to drag you onto the campus for an interrogation. Can’t get you to do anything you don’t want to, more stubborn than a bull. He agreed not to bother you and he’s left you alone. Every so often when he catches me on campus he’ll ask how you’re doing and if you’re still in town.”

“I’m not enlisting.”

“Did I say you had to?” McCoy gave him the look Jim had always regarded as the “dad” look. It made him shift and wriggle in place, made him feel guilty. “Look, you’re a grown ass man. I can’t tell you to do jack shit other than pay your rent and not fuck in my room. Do I think you should enlist? If you want to, but it’s your life and your choices. I’m just sick to death of seeing you dig yourself holes to avoid responsibility. Now listen to the divorced guy, call up Spock and apologize for being a bitch.”

“Apologize? I didn’t do anything!” 

“When was the last time you showed any interest in his career? Never? Know how I know? Cause you never talk about Starfleet if you can help it. Ever tell him about your family? Took you long enough to spend time at his place. Do you do anything other than sex to show him you’ve got any desire for this stupid thing to work out?”

“And why should I, huh?”

Eyebrow arching, McCoy stared him down. “Cause I’ve seen you two together, dumbass. Unless you put in some more effort, it doesn’t matter how much either of you wants it, it’s not gonna last.”

“Look who’s talking about relationships lasting,” Jim sniped back, his teeth bared in a snarl. “You keep talking about make it last, make it last, but what do we do when the TiMER-“

The door chime cut him off and McCoy scowled, expression darkened with barely suppressed fury. “We’re not finished,” he promised, rising from the couch to answer the door.

Spock was too dignified to shuffle awkwardly, as much as he very much wanted to. “Is… did Jim return this evening? He is not answering his comm.”

Looking him over for a long moment, McCoy nodded. “You wanna see him? He’s been drinking.”

Spock’s mouth curled downwards. “As that is the result of my actions, I believe it is my responsibility to see to him.”

“Your actions?”

“I upset him.”

McCoy let the door shut behind him. “Spock, look… I don’t wanna step on any toes, but I gotta say, you let that kid get away with murder.”

Spock stiffened. “Jim has never taken a life.”

“No, that’s not…” McCoy huffed. “It means… you let him get away with way too much. And with Jim, you give him an inch and he takes a mile. This is just a hissy fit because you asked some questions he didn’t like. You let him get away with it, he’ll just keep doing it.”

“I do not wish to upset him… he might…” He stopped, his expression clouding.

McCoy sighed, wondering when he’d become everyone’s big sister. “In relationships… and that’s what you two have, right? A relationship? Thought so. In relationships, it’s give and take. You’re always going to upset each other at some point. It’s knowing that you can’t get away with everything that makes you more prone to actually talk to each other before you do it.” He almost gave the other man a clap on the shoulder for confidence, but instead reached up and ran a hand through his own hair. “Now go in there and make HIM apologize for storming off instead of just talking to you.”

“But-“

“No buts. Just do it.” Giving Spock a firm push through the door and quickly shutting it, he waited, listening first to the awkward silence and then the muffled voices behind the wood. The voices did not raise higher than what he expected, nothing was being thrown, but when it got quiet again, he opened the door.

To find them necking on the couch like teenagers.

“God damnit, Jim, what’d I say!”

Jim pulled away from Spock’s neck, staring up at McCoy with a flushed grin. Spock’s ears darkened further as he feigned nonchalance, his mouth already swollen and slick, jacket half unzipped. McCoy crossed his arms, glowering down at them.

“You wanna keep this shit up, you go to his. I’ll get the hose, don’t think I won’t.”

Jim scrambled off the couch, pulling Spock to his feet behind, grin spreading further. “Thanks, Bones, we’ll get out of your hair.” Leaning down to grab his own discarded jacket, he bumped arms with the other man as he passed, giving him a smile. Spock nodded as he was tugged behind, face still flushed faintly, but expression much brighter than it had been in the hallway.

“Yeah, yeah… Try not to get yourself killed.” The door shut and McCoy huffed, rolling his eyes as he took his place on the couch again, a smile tugging at his mouth. “God forbid you make me happy.”

“So, what do you teach, exactly?” Jim asked, lazing on the sheets beside Spock, head pillowed on Spock’s bare thighs. Propped up on a pillow, Spock was grading a few essays.

“Xenolinguistics as well as two computer courses. Next semester I have been asked to teach a course on diplomacy.”

Jim grinned, “Xenolinguistics, huh? I can speak Orion, you know.”

“Yes,” Spock managed to stop a smile, remembering the other man’s attempts with Gaila earlier that day with ease. “Your accent is boorish.”

“And I speak it through my nose,” Jim said, his impression of Gaila terrible. Spock was quick to inform him of the fact. Jim landed a playful swat to Spock’s knee, “Jerk.” The hand fell to the bare skin, thumb gently stroking as Jim lay there, simply staring up at him. “Did you always want to teach?”

“Not always. However when I was asked by the academy upon graduation, I found the idea suited me.”

“Don’t you ever want to go, y’know… explore space? Be out there?”

Spock paused, able to feel the longing through their touch. “Don’t you?” he countered.

Silence fell over them for a long moment. “After… my dad died, my mom spent a lot of time in space. To avoid me, I guess, because I look so much like him,” Jim kept his gaze to the side, staring resolutely at the wall, his fingers pressing into Spock’s skin. “I got compared to him a lot, always asked when I was going to join up and enlist… Guess I just don’t want to have to live in his shadow.”

Spock wanted to tell Jim how he was wasting his potential trying to escape his father’s shadow. That he was proud of him, that he could excel at anything he set his mind to, that he would make an amazing member of Starfleet… but the look on Jim’s face gave him pause and Spock couldn’t bring it in him to push further. He simply allowed his hand to cover Jim’s, lacing their fingers together as he bent down to press a kiss to his forehead.

"Your hair is greasy," Spock remarked, threading his fingers through golden strands a few times. Jim murmured something in response, snugging closer into Spock's chest. Spock shifted enough to nose through the hair at his nape, earning a sound of annoyance as Jim was forced to lean forward slightly. "And you smell like cigarettes and cheap beer."

"Well, I did hit the bar with Sulu after work," Jim replied, grinning, eyes staying closed.

Spock hummed slightly, "It is unusual for it to cling to you so,"

Jim laughed, tilting his head into Spock's petting, "Sorry I don't keep a shower stall in my pocket, Spock. Need me to go freshen up a bit?"

There was a long beat of silence, Spock's fingers pausing in Jim's hair. "No... I happen to like cigarettes and cheap beer."

Tilting his head back in surprise, Jim looked up at Spock in slight confusion, brow knit. "Oh yeah?" Squirming up and straddling his hips, Jim gave Spock a searching look before leaning forward and nuzzling into the Vulcan's neck, breathing deep. "You're no bouquet of roses yourself, Mister Spock!"

Spock made a disgruntled noise, trying to squirm away, but Jim held fast.

"But, I don't much like roses, so let's see..." he took a deeper breath. "You smell like..."

Another inhalation.

"Like... Spock."

Spock huffed out his approximation of a laugh, hands rising up to rest on Jim's hips. "I believe that is the most intellectual thing you have said all day."

Jim grinned, pulling back from Spock's neck with a shrug. "Can't say I argue with that. Besides," he leaned closer, letting their foreheads meet. "I happen to like Spock."

Brown eyes stared up at him for a long moment, searching his face. Jim grinned when the corners shifted slightly; Spock was smiling. 

"Well, I," Spock replied, barely a murmur in the dwindling space between their lips, "happen to like Jim."

“You are staring,” Spock murmured, eyes closed as he basked in the lassitude of a few good orgasms.

“I’m gazing,” Jim countered, and Spock could _hear_ the smile in his voice. “It’s different. It’s romantic.”

“It is unsettling.”

Spock allowed one eye to open, peering over at Jim and catching him scooting even closer, staring at him wide-eyed with a forced creepy smile. He closed his eye again and quickly maneuvered the pillow under his head into his hand, whipping it right into Jim’s face.

“Gah!” Jim dissolved into laughter, managing to wrestle Spock under him and yank the pillow from his loose grip, leaning down to catch his mouth in a kiss. 

The resulting smile came to Spock’s lips easily.

“You were going to go the Vulcan Science Academy? What changed your mind?”

Spock paused, a half peeled potato in his hand as Jim continued to toss pasta with olive oil, heedless of the silence. “I… decided Starfleet was a better option for myself.”

“Don’t you miss your parents?”

“My father and I have not spoken much since. I often converse with my mother via video feed.”

Jim hummed. “Your mom sounds nice from what you’ve told me.”

“She is.”

Spock knew his tone was getting terse, and Jim turned to give him a curious look. “It has to do with her, doesn’t it? Why you came to Starfleet.”

Spock forced his hands to move, continuing to peel the potato. “It is of no concern.”

“It’s about you, I wanna know.”

Jim forced Spock to look at him, letting a hand rest on his shoulder. It was a curious thing, but something Jim did often. An unconscious expression of affection, and it relaxed Spock in ways few other things could.

“I was accepted to the science academy… despite the disadvantage of my human mother.”

The words were bitter and Jim inhaled sharply. 

“When I was conceived, I was to be raised Vulcan. The first Vulcan Human hybrid and still I was to negate one half of my heritage. My mother accepted this as the logical thing to do, my father made a sound argument… he often spoke of my future as an inevitability. That I was meant to attend the VSA as he had and his father before him… and I strived to do so.”

“So, why Starfleet?”

The question wasn’t accusatory, simply curious. Spock felt a wave of affection for the other man rush over him. No judgment, simply a wish to know. It was refreshing. “I was often teased as a child for being different. Starfleet was known to be a place where people of all origins were openly accepted. It was a… welcoming thought.”

“Well, they’re a bunch of dicks for treating you that way. They’re missing out, cause you? You’re awesome.”

Arms wrapped around Spock from behind, a kiss pressed to his jaw before Jim’s chin came to rest on his shoulder, swaying him slightly to a silent beat.

“If you hadn’t come to Starfleet, I never would have met you,” he murmured, pressing a chaste kiss to Spock’s neck and giving a hum. “As for your dad? Maybe he thinks you were meant for the VSA, but, well… destiny is one of those things that you can change, but only if you take the chance to fight it.”

Spock set the potato and peeler down, reaching a hand back to pull Jim into a kiss. Luckily, other than the pasta nothing had been put on the stove and so their disappearance into Jim’s bedroom was not noted until McCoy returned home several hours later to a messy kitchen.

Spock tried to ignore the TiMER on Jim’s wrist as their relationship progressed. Sometimes he foolishly pretended that his had actually malfunctioned and would begin to beep as Jim’s did when the counter hit zero. The thoughts were unsettling and he knew he was becoming too attached, but he found it impossible to leave.

He did not want to ask for advice. Nyota continued to look at him with a bit of pity, and Gaila, though her expression was not disapproving, was distinctively cautious. She avoided discussion about TiMERs generally, but when Jim was mentioned alongside, she would change the subject clumsily. Spock had learned to not ask. 

She and Jim spent more time together than they had previously, Gaila made the attempt to invite him along to lunches the trio usually held alone, introducing him to Uhura and Scotty more fully. The two men hit it off quite well after Jim had allowed the Scottsman into his workshop one afternoon, spending time souping up his hoverbike for Sulu’s reckless driving attempts. Spock felt himself fortunate to have found such good friends in his short time on Earth. 

If anything, the continued invitations to lunch had made Jim a bit more accepting of trips to the campus, and more importantly, Spock’s quarters, though most of their rendezvous still occurred in Jim’s apartment. It was an improvement he would have to thank Gaila for when he got the chance.

Unsettlingly, though, he would often catch the two mid-argument. Both would brush it off as nothing, a spat about some tedious subject, but Spock could sense the nervousness, the annoyance, the anger coming off the duo in waves. No amount of prodding to either got him any answers, but he still tried.

On days such as today, when his mood was hard to lift with all of the uncertainties in his mind and all the questions attempting to escape his strict control, he found comfort in Jim’s ability to read him as easily as he did.

A morning at the museum, lunch at their favorite restaurant, rushed and messy kisses in hidden alcoves, hands held as they walked down the street. Spock had never thought he’d be a part of a relationship such as this one, had not known how much he would enjoy it. It was an escape. He felt free in a way he never had before finding Jim’s company, that he could truly be himself with no repercussions, that he would be accepted.

It was liberating.

Now they found themselves climbing the stairs to Jim’s apartment, steps hurried and heat flaring between them, both too eager to wait for the elevator when the stairs had been right there.

“Hey, Bones, I-“ Jim stopped his usual rushed greeting, hand still holding steady on Spock’s forearm, the other on the doorknob. “Oh… uh… we’ll come back later.” 

McCoy stared up at him in horror, the young man beneath him flushing scarlet and trying, in vain, to hide behind the doctor from his position on the couch. McCoy had definitely walked in on the two of them in more compromising positions, but the fact that Jim had never once seen McCoy in such a state gave him pause before ushering himself and the Vulcan out of the room.

“I do believe that was one of my students,” Spock mused, expression slightly confused. He was unsure how to react to this scenario.

“Well a guy can only go so long…” Jim laughed, eyes bright with mischief. “So, your place?”

A brush of contact against his fingers sent Jim’s true meaning to Spock’s thoughts and he just barely resisted rolling his eyes, allowing Jim to lead the way back to the stairwell.

He somehow doubted they’d get as far as campus.

“So, you and Professor Spock, huh?”

Jim glanced away from the engine he was elbow deep in, watching as Sulu tossed a wrench in the air and caught it. “Yep. Pass me those.” He made a wide gesture and Sulu stared blankly until Scotty grabbed the necessary tools.

“How long that been going on?”

“Couple months,” Jim murmured, shrugging. “What about you?”

“Single,” Sulu replied. “Everyone’s getting those stupid TiMERs, I’m holding out as long as I can.”

Scotty tutted, “You should get one, laddie. They work wonders. Me and Nyota, never been happier.” He beamed, a smudge of oil across his cheek. “And I’d never have gotten her attention without it.”

Sulu grinned impishly. “See, I doubt that. I think if you’re meant to be with someone, you’ll meet them regardless of those stupid things. Now, making it work? That’s the hard part.”

Jim huffed. “Why do you ask, anyway? You’ve known me and Spock are dating since we met.” He glanced over, sweat dripping down his temples, his eyebrow arched.

“Just wondering… I mean, what are you going to do come lift off? You gonna wait the five years for him to come back?”

That gave him pause. “What do you mean, lift off?”

Scotty frowned, “You didnae know? Mister Spock’s been chosen as Pike’s first officer when the Enterprise takes her maiden voyage. Now that’s a ship I’d like to get my hands on. Think you could put in a word for me, Jim? I’ve already asked Nyota, but she’s not sure on her assignment yet, won’t know if she’s even chosen until she graduates.”

Sulu grinned, “Well if one of you gets on, the other does. You know Starfleet doesn’t separate TiMER couples… hell, a few have petitioned to get non-fleeters on board for deep space missions. It’s like how they let Vulcan bond pairs go together before TiMERs were invented.”

“Aye, but it never hurts to grease the wheels a bit and get in on our own merits,” Scotty glanced over at Jim, who was still bent over the engine, arms flexing, and frowned. “We’re just looking out for you, laddie. You’re not fleet and, well, your TiMERs…” he trailed off, searching for the words. Sulu shifted awkwardly, letting the wrench in his hands tap against his thigh. “But take off’s not for another two years or so, I’m sure you’ll figure something out.”

There was a long, awkward silence cut through only by the clangs and clicks of Jim working on the engine and Scotty looked to Sulu for help, getting a shrug in response.

“Sulu, hand me that wrench, wouldja?” Jim’s head popped out, a grin on his face.

Sulu silently handed the wrench over and dutifully did not mention that he could easily tell the smile was forced.

“Commander Spock?”

Spock’s gaze rose, meeting the steel gray eyes of Cadet Chekov. “Yes?”

The cadet entered his office, closing the door behind him carefully. “Sir, about yesterday…”

The entanglement on the couch. “Yes, Cadet?”

Chekov licked his lips, face flushing. “I… do not wish for it to reflect poorly on myself.”

Spock was confused. “Why would it?” Chekov’s brow knitted. “You and Cadet McCoy are both consenting adults under the federation law, though you are just barely. Is that your concern?”

“No, I just…” Chekov swallowed thickly before noting Spock’s TiMER. “Your TiMER is blank.”

Spock’s brow rose.

“I apologize. I thought you and Meester Kirk were…”

“We are.”

“But your TiMER…” He bit his lip, a smile tugging at the corners, eyes brightening slightly. “Nevermind, sir. I would like to ask you about this week’s assignment, if I could.”

Confused at the random path the conversation had taken and the change in Chekov’s demeanor, Spock nodded his assent, motioning for him to take a seat. As the cadet reached down to pull the chair out, Spock noted a large, nasty scar where his TiMER should be, choosing not to inquire. 

Just yet, anyway.

“You here to see Jim?” McCoy’s voice was gruff with embarrassment, face flushing as he moved to let Spock inside. “Listen, Spock, about the other day-“

“As I informed Cadet Chekov, it is none of my business what two consenting members of the Federation do in the privacy of their homes.” He arched a brow, taking a seat at the kitchen table. “Jim will be at work for another hour or so. I came to speak to you about something.”

McCoy gave him a curious look. “Now, I’m no scientist, so I’m assuming it’s not nuclear physics you need advice on, is it?” Spock leveled a flat look at him. “It’s Jim, which is close enough… you guys have another fight?” Spock shook his head and McCoy’s expression soured, searching Spock’s face for some sort of clue. He must have found what he was looking for, sighing heavily. “Give me a minute. We’ll need liquor for this discussion.”

McCoy puttered around the kitchen for a few moments, leaving Spock to attempt and organize his thoughts. It seemed to be a fruitless venture, and while he accepted the brandy set before him with a polite thanks, he made no move to reach for it.

Taking a seat across from him, his own glass in hand, McCoy leveled Spock with a curious stare. “Well, let’s have it then.”

“You have a TiMER.” 

The observation gave McCoy pause. “…Yeah, so do you? So do a lot of people. What’s your point?”

“Cadet Chekov has had his removed.”

McCoy’s expression contorted. “What about it?”

Spock motioned for McCoy’s arm. “Please.” Raising it, the older man held it out to him over the table, elbow resting against the wood. A tan line formed just behind his wrist, nearly bisecting the flat rectangle of metal. There were twenty-eight more years left on it, slowly ticking down. “Even if Cadet Chekov had not had it removed… your TiMER would not match with his,” Spock murmured. McCoy eyed him, gaze trained on his face as though trying to gauge what he’d say next. “I am… curious, then, as to why you continue your relationship… knowing that one day your TiMER will go off for another.”

McCoy stared at him for a long moment, eyes searching his face, expression grim. He must have found what he was looking for, appearance relaxing somewhat.

“Ever been married, Spock?”

Spock shook his head and McCoy withdrew his hand, letting it rest, TiMER down on the table.

“I was, once. Fell head over heels for this girl, loved her like I thought I would drown with it. Walks by the river under moonlight, asking her father for her hand proper-like, the whole nine yards. I loved her more than anything.”

Spock remained silent.

“We had a little girl together,” he continued, eyebrow raised sternly. “And I thought my life couldn’t get any more perfect. Doctor, working at my own successful practice, beautiful wife and daughter waiting for me at home, it was picturesque… and then those damn TiMERs got popular round town.” He slugged back his drink, staring at the empty glass, toying with it between his fingers. “I thought they were silly. We already knew we loved each other, what good does having one of those damned things do? But then our tenth anniversary came around, Jojo’d just turned four and the wife didn’t want diamonds, or roses, or a trip to the islands. She wanted a TiMER, like all of her friends had.”

McCoy’s grip was tightening and he set his glass down before it cracked under the pressure. 

“So we went out, and we got them. Well color me surprised when they both come on… but mine’s not set to go off for another thirty years and hers is set to go off in two weeks.” Spock frowned, McCoy’s tone growing more and more bitter. “Well, I figure, we love each other, what’s a piece of technology gotta say about that? Nothing, in my opinion… but it mattered to her. And it mattered to her _ONE_ when she started seeing him behind my back and got the papers all drawn up. Gave all sorts of excuses for it, too. Couldn’t fight fate, we weren’t _meant_ for one another, why would I limit her chance at happiness and take away JoAnna’s stable home life? So she got the house… my daughter, and my money and lives with a man one of _these_ blasted things told her to spend the rest of her life with.”

A heavy silence filled the air between them. Spock waited a few moments before speaking, “Yet you make another attempt with Cadet Chekov. Is it not logical that, with unmatched timers, he will simply leave you as well?”

“Of course he might,” McCoy shrugged. “And for a while, I pushed everyone away, hurt me once shame on you and all that jazz.” He leaned back, observing Spock critically. “But just because something bad _might_ happen is no reason to not try at all. So he might leave me, so he might not. I might fall in love with someone else three years down the road, he might do the same. We won’t know unless we try.”

Spock absorbed this information, the idea, and without a word, rose. “I thank you, Doctor, you have given me much to meditate on.”

There was silence as Spock began to move around the table towards the exit.

“Jim’s a good guy, Spock. Little rough around the edges, but what man isn’t? For what it’s worth.” He paused, considering his next words, “I think you two are good for each other, TiMERs or not.”

Spock stared at him for a moment before heading for the exit. Chekov was leaning against the wall just outside and Spock allowed the door to shut behind him. Without a word, Chekov rolled his sleeve up.

“We may not be ‘destined’ for one another,” he murmured, showing the angry scar on his forearm with not a smidge of hesitancy. The raised flesh was a perfect outline of a once installed TiMER, red and puckered. “But I love him… and for me, that is enough.”

He pushed from the wall and tugged his sleeve back into place. Giving Spock a searching look, he nodded decisively and turned away, slipping into the apartment with ease. The click of the latch catching echoed in the empty hallway, and Spock found himself, not for the first time in his life, unsure of what to do.

"Tell me about how your parents got together.”

Spock glanced at Jim from his place at his desk. Jim was sprawled on the floor of his office, eyes closed and arms folded under his head as he waited for Spock to finish his work for the day. His attention turned back to the PADD in his hands.

“What would you like to know?”

“Where they met, if they dated, stuff like that. She’s human, so…” he trailed off, shrugging against the floor.

“My father is the Vulcan Ambassador to Earth. My mother was a teacher and had been invited to the embassy. He had a TiMER that had yet to turn on, Earth had just begun expanding their installations into the general public.”

Jim glanced back at him. “So your mom didn’t have one?”

“She did not.”

“Then…?”

“My mother’s tales are often too sentimental, but the basic course of their courtship was simple. She maintains that her attraction to him was instantaneous, and only grew with time. They spent quite some time in each other’s company at the embassy and my mother found herself besotted. My father, in her words, was equally so, but was… shy about his feelings. He did not express it outwardly but she…” his expression wrinkled for a moment, “somehow knew.” 

“…And?”

“A week before he was set to return to Vulcan, she went and had a TiMER installed in her wrist. It came on within a few hours and she went to the embassy the next day to see him.”

Sitting up, Jim looked at him searchingly. “No… no way. Matched up?”

“As mother puts it, their eyes met across a crowded hall and she simply knew. Then the alarm went off, confirming it. Many people were unsure about their pairing, but the TiMERs were scientifically proven and many witnesses had seen the TiMERs react to one another, it could not be disputed. They were bonded, my mother moved to Vulcan to be with my father. It was logical.”

“Love at first sight, huh?”

Spock hummed non-committedly. “Mother alludes to some difficulties at first when she mentions their relationship and insists that communication and compromise were the key to its success. Once I was born, they were content.”

“And that took a few years… huh?”

“Yes.”

There was silence for a few long moments and Spock continued tapping at his PADD.

“Do you think they’re happy?”

Spock looked up, Jim’s attention turned back to the window of his office, staring up at the sky. “I like to believe they are.” He shut his PADD down, finished for the day. “How did your parents meet one another?”

Jim turned to him, a lopsided grin on his face. “How do you feel about Thai for dinner tonight?”

Ah, a subject for another time, then.

“I would not be opposed, then perhaps some chess in my quarters.”

“It’s a date.”

It was a lazy afternoon, sunlight streaming through Jim’s open windows over the bed. Lounging naked against the pillows, Spock allowed Jim to toy with his wrist, fingers playing over his TiMER absently as the other man dozed lightly. “Do you think they actually work?” he found himself asking.

Jim’s fingers paused, eyes opening and darting to Spock’s TiMER, expression confused and searching. “Why do you ask?”

“When we met, you said you did not believe in them, but got one because it was ‘the thing to do’. I am merely curious.”

Humming, Jim let his fingers switch to Spock’s vacant wrist, pressing a kiss to the skin there. “Do you think they work?” He tucked his own TiMER’d wrist underneath his bare chest, nuzzling against Spock’s wrist – an erogenous zone he had never suspected that Jim now took far too much pleasure in exploiting. 

“Either they work,” Spock murmured, resisting a full body shudder as Jim’s ministration’s continued, “or they are a self-fulfilling prophecy.”

“What do you mean?”

Spock frowned minutely, raising his TiMER above him, watching the display blink as it had always done. Empty data for what could end up being an empty life. “When your TiMER goes off, that is the person. You are taught that they are who you are meant to spend the rest of your life with, and so you devote yourself to making that happen… but what if…” He paused, wondering if his next words would be pushing unnecessary emotion into their involvement.

“If you could do the same to someone you’re not matched up to? Just meet someone and get to know them and feel something without being told to?” Jim mused, grinning impishly. “I think the idea has merit.” He slithered up Spock’s body, pressing wet, open mouth kisses as he went. “Think about it, it’s how folks worked before your people invented the things; it has to hold _some_ water.” He bit gently on Spock’s clavicle and the discussion, for the moment, was abandoned.

Several days later, Spock awoke, with his face pressed into Jim’s pillow and no warmth behind him. The sound of the tap running was a clue and Spock rose, padding out of the room in a pair of Jim’s boxers to the bathroom. From the entryway he saw the bathroom empty, tap running but a familiar blue toothbrush missing from the cup, watery foot steps leading from the shower stall to the sink and out the door, towel discarded on the floor.

Looking back towards the sink, Spock’s eyes widened at the sight of a TiMER laying vacated next to Jim’s razor.

“Yeah, the taps running but we were out of toothpaste and-“

“Jim, your arm-“ Spock grabbed Jim’s wrist, surprised to find unmarked skin.

Jim’s breath caught. “Oh… I… I didn’t want you to find out like this,” he swallowed, reaching for the TiMER on the sink, pressing it into his wrist. “It’s a fake. Buddy of mine found them online… you program whatever time you want in and they stick on, looks just like the real thing.”

Spock stared at the metal tab as it continued to count down, unaware that it had been removed just moments before.

“You… do not have a TiMER?”

Jim laughed shortly. “Of course not, I don’t believe in them. I wanna make my own choices and love who I want to love… the way my parents did.” He moved their hands so his fingers were laced with Spock’s. “My parents met the old fashioned way. Dated, fell in love, got married and had kid… And when my dad died, that was it for my mom. She never fell in love again. She never let anyone close again. She never bothered getting a TiMER, had my Uncle stay with us so we’d have some sort of father figure, but never got married again. My dad was her ONE. We’ve got holos and vids of them from when he was alive and…” He gave another breathy laugh, “I have never seen her smile the way she did in those, when she was with him.”

Spock swallowed thickly, “Then why the ruse?”

“People are so much more honest with you when they don’t expect a relationship to go anywhere anyway.” He shrugged. “I got to really know people… got to really know you. I… I’m sorry if you’re mad, or you think what I did was wrong, but I am so… _so_ glad to have met you, Spock.” His thumb brushed the webbing between Spock’s own and his forefinger. “I… I really…” He paused, swallowing. “I think I love you.”

Spock’s heart skipped a beat. “…Think?”

Jim laughed, bright and strong. “Know. I _know_ I love you. Your stupid jokes and the way you look when you’re reading and how you kick my ass at chess and how smart and brave and… _you_ , you are. And I don’t need some stupid piece of metal to tell me how I feel or that I want to spend the rest of my life with you.”

Spock stared at their joined hands, where his own timer continued to blink at him as it had done for the last twenty years. Jim loved him? How could he be sure without the TiMER letting him know? “I… I am unsure how I am to react,” he replied, honestly. “I have no…” He winced, “I am unsure what being in love is meant to feel like.”

Jim’s eyes fell half-mast as he stared at their joined hands, “It’s… wanting to be with someone all the time and missing them when they are gone. Knowing the sound of their voice and all their smiles and wanting them to be happy no matter what, even if it makes you sad.”

Swallowing thickly, Spock’s gaze roamed Jim’s face. He concentrated on everything he’d ever felt for the man before him, all of their touches and looks. A pressure fell off his chest. “I believe I share a similar regard for you, as well.”

A laugh escaped the other man, short and bright and Spock felt a hand curve around his neck, pulling him into a familiar kiss. 

He’d have to call in sick today.

“Did you ever consider actually having one installed?” Spock murmured, head pillowed on Jim’s chest, bare wrist held firmly in his hand, Jim’s fingers carding through his hair.

“Not particularly,” Jim mused, “it just didn’t happen for me.”

Spock traced the slight tan line where the TiMER had been just hours before. “Any particular reason?”

Jim hummed. “I was in the ass-end Iowa, people were still a bit freaked out about ‘em over there when I was old enough to get one. Like I said, I wanted to do this naturally… remember the self-fulfilling prophecy thing? How can I trust that I really love the person or if it’s just that thing on my arm telling me to love them?” The grip on his wrist shifted to lace their fingers together and Jim drew them to his mouth, pressing a kiss to Spock’s knuckles. “And I trust that I really love you, you idiot.”

“You are the shut up,” Spock countered pressing a kiss of his own to Jim’s chest.

“This is going to be _great_. I don’t know why we didn’t think of this before!” Gaila cheered, arm looped with Spock’s as they pushed through the crowded store. “I am so excited, this is going to be better than the time I got with the three guys from engineering last semester!”

Spock allowed himself to be led, stopping at the counter. A bright faced young man turned to them, beaming. “Hello! Installing today?”

“Nope! Getting em removed,” Gaila waved her wrist proudly.

His expression fell. “You… want to get it removed?” He seemed horrified at the prospect. Gaila beamed back at him.

“Yeah, you guys do that, right? Sign outside says you do. We’re doing a two-fer.” She grabbed Spock’s forearm, lifting it up as well. “Come on, let’s go!”

The young man coughed weakly, ushering them around the counter to the back. Unlike the sterile, blindingly white installation rooms shown in commercials and in fliers, the room they were taken to was dimmer, housing an outdated installation chair with some spare equipment around it. It was obviously a storage room; that did not do much to ease Spock’s nerves.

After a few moments of hushed discussion with another employee - a woman in her early thirties, obviously the manager of this particular chain – the duo approached. The woman cleared her throat, licking her lips awkwardly. Her TiMER was blank, she was matched, then. “Are you sure you want to make this… mistake? This is a… permanent, and painful procedure… have you given it all the necessary thought?”

“What thought is there? I want this thing out of my arm.” Gaila hoisted herself onto the chair, dropping her arm into the holster usually used for installation. The manager colored, either in anger or shock Spock couldn’t tell, shoulders tensing as she approached a dusty cabinet. Spock envied Gaila’s courage to face this so boldly, taking a seat on the plastic chair next to the installer.

“I am obligated to inform you that removal is… much more painful that installation, one of the many reasons we advise against it.” The young man licked his lips, fidgeting awkwardly with his lanyard. “It will… scar, you know,” he murmured. “I’ve only seen this done once since I started here four years ago.” He pulled out a bottle of antiseptic and a bandage from a drawer under the chair. “Dermal regenerators can’t even fix the mark.”

“So I have a cool story to tell in bars. Come on, let’s do this.” Gaila clenched her hand into a fist and released it a few times, fidgeting was the norm for her when expected to stay still. Spock allowed her other hand to find his, gripping it. Even without his touch telepathy, he could sense her tenseness and her underlying fear. He admired her brave front and hoped he could mirror it when it was his turn.

“Alright, it’s going to be a bit of a pinch,” the woman murmured, taking a glance at Gaila’s TiMER. “Oh good heavens, dear, no wonder you want to…” she trailed off at Gaila’s unamused expression. “Of course, alright here we go…” She aligned the device over Gaila’s arm, pressing down firmly. “One, two…”

GACHUNK.

Gaila’s grip tightened and she let out a small shriek of pain and an aborted curse. “Kinda… like a bee sting.”

“Indeed?”

“No, a lot worse,” Gaila’s hand hung limp, fingers shaking a bit.

The young man quickly dabbed some antiseptic on the bloody mark, placing a bandage over. “Your hand might be a bit… sleepy for the rest of the day. Just nerves getting used to the TiMER not being there, nothing to worry about.” He bustled around the room, filling a bag with odds and ends, paper fliers and a roll of gauze amongst the items tucked away. “Basic care and cleaning - keep it bandaged for two weeks, cleaning it gently at least twice a day, etcetera - and a reminder that the procedure is permanent and irreversible.”

Gaila looked at the bandage on her arm, “I can’t ever get another one?”

“Nope, the signal won’t work anymore. Even if we installed another one on your other wrist, it wouldn’t turn on.”

Her face split into a wide grin, “Fantastic! Your turn, Spock!”

Ushering him into her place, Spock allowed his sleeve to be rolled up, revealing his blinking TiMER to the manager. She tutted, mindful not to touch him too closely. “Alright, just a pinch… one… two…“

BI-BEEP.

Spock’s brow knit. “Gaila’s did not make such a noise.”

“Your TiMER just came on,” the manager cheered, pulling her device away. “Your ONE must have just gotten theirs installed! That’s quite lucky, I’d say.”

Spock stared at his forearm in surprise, watching as the digits filled out, his countdown beginning as he had hoped it would for the last twenty years.

“Eight hours? Are you even kidding me?” Gaila stared at it in shock. “You’re going to meet your ONE tomorrow? Bullshit, let’s get this taken out.” She reached for the remover, yanking it forward, only for Spock to pull his hand away. “Spock?”

“Jim… Jim said he could not see me today because he was doing something he claimed was very important,” Spock stared at his TiMER in nearly unmasked awe. “I… may I wait… until the day after tomorrow to remove it?”

Gaila stared at him. “You… Jim…” She bit her lip. “You know Jimmy would never get one, Spock… you…” She let her gaze drop, throat working thickly. “The day after tomorrow?”

“Yes… I… I cannot do it today. I apologize.”

Her smile was sad, _hurt_. “No, I understand, completely. Spock, come on… it’s a once in a lifetime chance… you… you should go meet your destiny.”

Spock did not sleep that night, staring at his TiMER as it counted down for the first time in his life. He almost didn’t want it to hit zero, he just wanted to watch the numbers change. However, once midnight struck and it began to flash zeroes, he found himself shaking with anticipation. It was still too early to contact Jim, though no amount of glancing at the chronometer would speed up the passage of time.

Once it struck eleven AM, Spock could wait no longer. Unsure if he could keep his voice modulated, he sent a comm asking Jim to meet him in on the Academy Quad to get lunch together. The response was quick and positive and Spock rushed to ready himself. 

He reached the campus with time to spare, searching the expanse of red suited cadets to find Jim in his civilian wear. He was always so easy to spot amongst a crowd, even ones that weren’t a sea of crimson, however nerves kept his gaze jumping. Where was he? Would he be late? How would he react if it was…

“Jim!” Spock called to the other man, his pace increasing as he caught sight of him across the grassy lawn. He kept his eyes down as he approached, only daring to raise his gaze when his hand circled Jim’s left arm.

“Hey, Spock, what’s up?” Jim’s eyes crinkled with his grin, and Spock felt his heart drop when no alarm went off. “So I heard Gaila got her TiMER removed, that’s pretty- Spock, what’re you-“ Spock took hold of Jim’s right arm, yanking his sleeve up to reveal untarnished skin. His thumb brushed over the place the TiMER would have been installed, stomach sinking in realization. “Spock? …What’s wrong?”

Spock swallowed, pulling back his own sleeve. Jim’s brow knit in confusion before he looked down, eyes widening in surprise before wincing slightly. “Oh…” he gave it a little tap, the blinking zeros telling him all he needed to know. “I… Gaila said you had something important to tell me today.”

He looked anywhere except at Jim, his chest constricting. “I had hoped-“

“Spock, I-“

CH-CHIRP. CH-CHIRP. CH-CHIRP.

Both paused, and Spock looked to his wrist in surprise. A young woman across the field had stopped in her tracks, looking at hers as well before turning to them in surprise. 

Jim’s shoulders slumped. “Oh… uh… I…” he bit his lip. “Hey, good news, she’s a… she’s a real knock out,” he raised his arm to give Spock one of his usual pats on the shoulder, faltering before he could make contact. Spock could see his throat working as he struggled to swallow, his eyes shining with moisture. Jim opened his mouth to speak again before giving up and simply running.

“Jim!” he raised his hand to stop him, moving to follow only to be interrupted by the young lady stepping into his path. It was true, she was quite pretty. Long, brown hair and dark eyes, athletic in build and bearing an attractive smile.

“Hi… um… my name’s Samantha…” She shuffled awkwardly. “And you are?”

He looked over her shoulder at Jim’s retreating form, quickly being swallowed by the crowd of crimson-clad students. “I am Spock.”

Jim held a bowl in the crook of his arm, mixing with an old wooden spoon as the radio blared out whatever Bones had left in the deck. It was bluesy and slow, but set as loud as he knew his neighbors could bear without complaint.

“Jim.”

He almost started, but kept his composure as well as his back to the intruder. “Should have changed my locks…”

There was silence, cut through with melodic saxophone and trumpet from the speakers. Jim continued stirring at his batter.

“Why did you run away?”

“I didn’t run away,” Jim forced a laugh. “It’s rude to be a third wheel. You and your ONE must have had a lot to talk about. Big day for both of you.”

Spock frowned. “Yes, yesterday was quite a day,” he took a step forward, reaching for Jim’s arm, only for the other man to jerk away as if he’d been burned. It hit Spock like a physical blow. “Jim, I-“

“No, look,” Jim whirled around, clutching the bowl to his chest like a shield. “I… I took a chance on you, and… and it blew up in my face and you broke my heart, and I am _trying_ to be a man about it, but you’re making it really hard and-“ Spock reached for him again, hands cupping his jaw, the thick, plastic brush of a bandage against Jim’s neck silencing him.

“Miss Brown may be what my TiMER thought I wanted… but someone once told me that destiny can be rewritten, if only you take the chance to fight it.”

Jim blinked back the moisture in his eyes, swallowing thickly. “You… got it removed.”

“It will scar,” Spock murmured, “and not attractively so, yet I find that I do not mind.”

“But your ONE, you found her and-“ Spock leaned forward, silencing Jim with a chaste kiss.

“I found my ONE five point six two months ago,” Spock replied, “and I do not need a computer program to tell me that.”

Jim’s brow knit, “Five point…” Realization dawned and he laughed, eyes crinkling up. Spock felt the corners of his own mouth tilt up just so, only to be smothered in a kiss as Jim tossed his bowl to the counter, throwing his arms around Spock’s neck. “You stupid asshole, never do that to me again.” 

Spock felt laughter bubbling up in him at the enthusiastic display, but withheld it, simply allowing Jim to pepper him with kisses, squeezing him tightly. The rush faded into a quiet hum under their skins, and Spock simply allowed the moment to be, holding Jim tightly to his chest with the other man’s head tucked under his chin.

Something was prodding at his thoughts, however. “I recall you had something to tell me as well?” 

“Oh!” Jim pulled back just enough to beam up at him. “I joined up. Next semester I start a three year program at Starfleet Academy.”

Spock stared.

“Well, when Sulu told me Pike asked you to be the First Officer on the Enterprise, I knew I had to do something and since we couldn’t use the TiMER excuse other officers use I asked Pike to help me enlist and… Spock? Why are you looking at me like that?”

“I love you,” he let the words come quietly, his lips tingling as they passed. It was one thing to acknowledge, but so much more to finally say it. He understood now, the idea of wanting to scream his feelings to the world, to let everyone know. It felt far too large being held inside himself, it wanted to escape. “I love you, Jim.”

Jim laughed, shoulders shaking as his grip tightened further around Spock’s torso. “I love you, too, Spock.”

And TiMER or not, Spock knew that he did.

**Author's Note:**

> Beautiful art by [cannedebonbon](http://cannedebonbon.livejournal.com/113218.html), [spomarani](http://spomarani.livejournal.com/8930.html), and [astridfire](http://astridfire.livejournal.com/50748.html)


End file.
